His Angel of Music
by 123Ekaterina
Summary: A beggar with a beautiful voice is confronted by the Opera Ghost. This is not a regular Erik-x-reader story. Oneshot. R&R Give it a try.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: just a few notes for any Phantom lovers. I am combining the musical version of the phantom with the book version of the phantom. I feel like he is more yandere in the book, but he will have all the grace of the Phantom in the musical. Enjoy. Also, if you haven't seen Phantom of the opera, i highly advise it. Start off with "The Phantom of the Opera at the Royal Albert Hall." It's available on netflix. Do NOT start off with the Gerard Butler version. He has no voice.

The streets of Paris were always the same at this time of year: cold, wet, and empty. This is how Erik-better known as the Opera Ghost or the Phantom of the Opera-felt every day as he walked each night, searching, never knowing what for. Ever since Christine left him, he thought he would die of heartbreak but he had survived through worse things in his life. Though the pain was still there, he couldn't help but think nostalgically about the old days when Christine was under his spell, when someone actually admired him for his voice and music. Uh, would he ever again experience such a bliss anytime soon? No, Erik, you silly old man, don't feed your shattered soul with needless illusions.

His mind was caught off guard when he heard a weak female voice singing. He looked around searching for it frantically. It was beautiful like an angel's, shamefully untrained of course but...beautiful. His eyes finally landed on a small bundle of clothing on the wet corner of the street, regs all over the small frame. He came closer and looked down at the old rusted plate placed in front, with almost no coins inside. A beggar. A child. You.

You shifted a bit as a nicely dressed gentleman stood in front of you. You looked up at him but couldn't see his face due to the shadows of the evening. Maybe you would be able to eat tonight if you impressed him enough with your voice? You began to sing, putting everything you had into your small throat, performing the opera songs you heard from the opera house not too far away from your "home." But your voice shattered in the highest note, sending you into another coughing spree. Oh no. Not this again. You've had this problem for a month now and it wasn't getting better. The streets were harsh and the weather would eventually kill you.

"I'm sorry, monsieur," you said with a weak voice looking down in shame, appearing smaller than you already were. The man stood frozen staring down at you. Then you heard the most beautiful voice in existence.

"Wandering child

so lost, so helpless

yearning for my guidance"

You looked up, the rag covering your hair falling down and exposing your young, pale sickly face. A gloved hand reached down, gently and slowly, brushing your pale cheek.

"You have a beautiful voice, ma chère," came a deep voice from the shadowy face. "I can give you shelter and food if you would just allow me to train you."

Your eyes were wide, hesitation written all over them. In 14 years of your life you came to realize that nothing was free. Nothing.

"Oh, child, I will not bring harm upon you. I am a musical genius. I know talent when I see it. I can make you into a star."

Now it sounded like something really farfetched. Who was this gentleman? Did he seek some sort of pleasure and was luring you to his home? No, you wouldn't stoop that low.

"With all due respect, monsieur," you said in a weak voice, "I do not know you, and I've grown not to (cough) trust strangers."

The man removed his gloved hand from your cheek tilting his head.

"I assure you, my dear, you will trust me eventually," his voice was a little hard this time, as if he wasn't pleased with you not trusting him blindly. He took you by the arm and lifted you up to your feet. You were so weak from the lack of food that you couldn't keep your balance and leaned against him, your little fingers grabbing onto his long warm cloak.

The Phantom looked down at the dirty shivering girl. Poor soul, abandoned and discarded in the streets of Paris. He felt butterflies in his stomach as your (eye color) eyes looked up at him, half-lidded and weak. She was beautiful, even if she was in rags, even if her cheeks were covered with mud. He felt her fingers clutched onto him and he realized that she didn't want him to let go, that it was her only chance at normal life. His chest filled up with a warm feeling and he removed his cloak, placing it atop of her small figure. Poor child was so short, his cloak was covered in mud, but he didn't care.

"Monsieur, why are you doing this?" she simply asked, not having enough strength to resist him physically and mentally. She was worn out by the harsh life, so now any kindness seemed like a blessing.

"Because you have a voice of an angel," he spoke and picked her up bridal style, caring her to the Opera House, down to his lair.

You cheeks blushed and you closed your eyes at the warmness of the cloak and of the nice smell of the nobleman carrying you. Your mind was telling you that something was wrong but your body was tired, lulling you to sleep.

The Phantom looked down at the girl's sleeping form in his arms. She was so light, like a feather, malnourished and young. But not for long. He would take care of her now, feed her, clothe her, teach her. She would grow to trust him, to admire him. She would keep him company down in the chambers of the Opera House. He had thought that Christine would be his only salvation. Maybe now he would get HIS happy ending.

You woke up laying on something very soft. You weren't cold anymore. Your clothes didn't stink of the street trash. Your face didn't seem to be itchy with mud. You felt fresher and newer than you have had in years. You swiftly got up, feeling light-headed instantly, having to balance yourself against the bed. That's right. You weren't sleeping on the ground this time, but on an actual bed. It brought a small smile to your face. But how did you get here?

The room itself seemed to be styled in middle class furniture, but for you it was magnificent, like from a fairy tail. You looked at the dresser and the table, walking slowly towards it and picking up a mirror. "Christine" was written on the back of it. You looked upon your face and barely recognized yourself. You looked pale and sickly, but you looked clean. Your hair was brushed, the mud removed from you body. To think of it, you were dressed in a simple nightgown. It was clean, at last, something clean to wear. It all seemed unreal, but your bewilderment vanished when you realized you didn't know where you were or who has done this to you. You didn't change yourself, you didn't wash away the dirt. Then who did it? You heard an organ playing in the distance and opened the door, slowly and quietly. You stepped outside to a cave, decorated with all sorts of artwork and furniture. Beautiful but sad music was playing, echoing across the walls, sending shivers down your spine. You, being curious of course, stepped closer towards the source, seeing the back of a man in a white shirt in front of an organ and multiple sheets of music in front of him.

Suddenly, the music stopped and the man turned around, startling you. He was wearing a white mask, covering his entire face, allowing only the lips to be seen. The man instantly stood up from the chair and approached you. You felt yourself unconsciously step back.

"It's alright child," spoke the man gently, his voice soft and inviting. It was an angel's voice. "I will not harm you." He outstretched his ungloved hand for you, inviting you to step closer. You were hypnotised and couldn't resist. Yes, this was the man who took you away from the streets. But you felt so weak, as if you haven't eaten anything in days. You knew the feeling far too well and tried to stay as steady as you could. His hand enclosed yours firmly, as if to make sure you won't fall.

"I am called Erik," his brown yellow eyes locked with yours and you felt entranced. "And what is your name, child?"

You couldn't resist telling him, but your voice was weak. You felt concern radiating from the man's eyes as he looked at you.

"You might not remember but I tended to your needs for the past two days. You had a severe case of fever. You might not remember anything." You were confused, but just nodded. He pulled you a little closer to him, leading you towards another area.

"Come, you must be hungry. I cannot allow a creature like you to starve," his voice was so soft, it made you feel light and carefree, as if someone was there to take care of you.

Of course, you didn't have any table manners, but the man didn't seem to care. He didn't dine with you, rather watching you as you hungrily devoured the food given. You didn't even notice the taste as you simply swallowed the chunks in a hurry. Once you had your feel and eased your throat with some water, you looked upon the man, inspecting him.

"Monsieur Erik," you began, "I'm grateful to you for showing me such kindness. I haven't had a place to sleep in years, and I have forgotten the softness of bedsheets, the freshness of clothing, and the taste of unspoiled food." You felt your voice tremble, tears fearing to fall down your cheeks. "I...I...I don't know how to repay you."

"I am asking nothing of you, my dear. All I want is your company and your voice."

You blinked as you looked upon him, his eyes were staring straight at you. It made you feel uneasy due to their intensity but you tried to ignore the goosebumps on your arms. He is a good man, he took care of you when you had a fever. There was no reason to be frightened of him.

"My… voice?" you spoke drying your tears. "I'm afraid I do not understand. What could you possibly want with a voice of a common beggar?"

"Your past doesn't matter to me. Like I said before, I know talent when I see it. And your voice, child, has such high potential. I can teach you. You will be better than the Opera singers, I can guarantee it."

You couldn't believe your ears as you stared at the man open-mouthed.

"Y-yes!" you said after a small pause, dumbstruck by his proposal.

"But," he lifted his finger as his eyes became a bit hard, "There is one condition. Once your voice is fully trained, it belongs to me. You cannot sing for anyone but me. Do you understand?"

This was such a strange condition but you nodded, not thinking much of it. He smiled at you and took the empty food plate away. Such began your life with monsieur Erik.

At first, he didn't want to strain your still weak voice. You weren't fully healed from the cold yet, so he was gentle towards you, only giving you 1-2 hour singing lessons. But when you have recovered your strength, gained a healthy amount of weight, he became strict and demanding. With each session he pushed your limits, leaving you almost sour and unable to speak. But you had to admit, you were improving dramatically. In just three weeks you were able to hit notes you haven't even dreamed of.

You were wearing a nice dress which Monsieur Erik has tailored for you himself. You looked healthier than before, looking older than you were. You looked like a lady, carefree and innocent. You started to smile despite your harsh training. You and Monsieur Erik became good friends too. It was lovely, filled with bliss that you haven't experienced since you were very young. But there was one thing on your mind: why did your tutor wear a mask? What was he hiding?

"Monsieur Erik, why do you wear a mask?" you asked cautiously when you were sitting down on his couch while he was drawing a portrait of you on a sheet of paper. His eyes stopped to look at you, dead serious, his mouth in a thin line.

"It is a necessity, ma chère. You must never attempt to remove it. the consequences will be severe," he spoke in a serious tone which made you sigh.  
"Okay," you replied obediently. It was almost like having a father or a guardian with you.

You weren't sure what sort of relationship you and Monsieur Erik had. You weren't lovers, that's for sure. The thought of that made you blush. He never attempted to touch you in any way nor has he spoken of anything suggestive. He seemed to be a strict teacher but a kind and gentle man outside of studies. You were growing attached to him despite him being...well, a bit weird.

Month later.

The Phantom placed his hands gently on the keyboards once the song was finished. That's it. She was perfect. Even better than Christine ever was.

"Your training is finished," he spoke turning around to face his pupil. Her eyes were big and wide as she looked up at his towering form. "Now I can finally show you my music," he said in a passionate way.

He was waiting for this moment for a very long time. He was training her specifically for this. She would be his angel of music now, the final touch needed for his composition. She would sing for him.

You watched as you master stood up excitedly and opened a leathery book, placing it front of him as he set back down to play the organ. As he pressed the keys you felt yourself shudder. The music… How could it be? It was hard as lightning, and yet soft as candle light. It was nothing like you have ever heard before. It was...addicting. And then, he began to sing. A sudden wave rushed over you, a longing like you have never experienced before. You felt your hand outstretched itself towards the person. You placed it upon Erik's shoulder, squeezing it. He inhaled sharply, moaning for a split moment stopping the music to look at you. His eyes were unreadable and his expression was hidden underneath the mask.

"No, please, don't stop. I want more," you spoke in a hurry. "I want more," you repeated placing your hand upon his which was upon the keyboards of the organ. He immediately withdrew it and stood up.

"I think that's enough for today. I had no idea my music would have such an effect on you. I know it can be rather… addicting, but you can't hear all of it. Not yet."

As if released from some sort of trance you took a step back too. Why were you behaving in such a way? What was wrong with you? You never had such thoughts of Monsieur Erik before. You never wanted to touch him… in a romantic way. You went to you room, wanting to be alone.

Can music really have such power over someone? How can music influence how a person thinks and acts? It was strange and it was… scary. Not being able to control yourself was frightening to say the least.

The next day Monsieur Erik showed you the notes to his song and requested for you to sing with him. It required to push the limits of your voice beyond anything you have ever sang. It was a bit scary what your throat could do as you sang The Don Juan Triumphant.

Yes, she is finally mine. My angel of music, singing only for me.

"Sing for me!" He demanded once more and you his the highest note you could, pouring your entire soul into it. But by the end of it all, you fainted, with your master catching you.

The Phantom looked down at the girl in his arms. Oh no, he pushed her too hard. Her frame was so small, she couldn't possibly handle the music of the night in her condition. No matter, she would become stronger. She was his now. She owed everything to him and he would never let her go.

It has become clear to you that the more you sang Erik's music, the more tired you got. It was as if it was draining energy from you. It was addicting and dangerous, like a drug. Erik himself turned into a demanding man, getting angry at you when you couldn't sing for him due to being tired. He wanted so much out of you, his yellow eyes frightening. Was this all you were to him? A tool to sing his music? Everything he now did seemed almost perverse, like he was possessive over you, like the only way he felt alive was when you sang his damn Don Juan Triumphant.

You wanted to leave, to see the sun, the sky, the people. Erik was frightening you everyday with his obsession. You stopped feeling comfortable around him. So one day, you've wandered off to the passages which Erik forbade you to explore. You've spent hours there, searching with the candle for a way out. It seemed like you were terribly lost with voices and whispers telling you where to go. You thought they were hallucinations. You thought they were ghosts, but you've decided to listen to them eventually ending up by a trapdoor leading up. You smiled cheerfully and opened it. It seemed to be a ballet room. You've swiftly climbed out and closed it. You were in the Opera House? So this is where Erik was hiding.

Being naive and thinking that Erik wouldn't dare to climb to the surface to get you, you've applied to the singing position, easily getting the lead singer role in the next opera. You couldn't believe it. the managers assured you that you would become a great hit and restore the opera House to its glorious days.

You were in your dressing room getting ready for the big show, fixing your outfit in front of the mirror when you heard the voice. His voice.

"Did you think I wouldn't find you?" he asked angrily, the voice sounding like it came from behind you. You turned around but there was nothing there, just empty air. "Did you think you could hide here from me?" this time it sounded like a whisper in your ear and you turned around again expecting him to be right behind you, seeing nothing again. You were frightened now, your hands shaking. he was everywhere and nowhere. "Insolent child! After everything I've done for you!" His voice was hard as lightning making you jump.

"I couldn't stay with you forever, Erik. I'm not a bird to be locked in a cage," you spoke to the air around you since you didn't see him anywhere.

"You will be anything I tell you to be, my dear. I own you: your soul, your voice, your mind. And in time, your body," his words made you shudder and blush. His creepy laughter made your heart beat faster.

"No, please. This is why I left. You were asking too much. You wanted everything!" she pleaded.

"You ought to give me everything, you foolish girl!" he roared at you, his temper harsh as fire. "I've made you. And now you're sitting here, ready to sell your voice for the joy of others, like a common harlot." His words stung deeply. "I've wanted to see for myself if you would betray me so. Did you think those voices you heard in the corridors were ghosts leading you to safety?" He laughed at you naivety in a rather cruel way. "No, my naive little angel, it was me. And now I see that you cannot be trusted alone in the surface world."

You took a step back but you froze when you saw the big mirror open and Erik come out rather smugly. You ran for the door of the dressing room but it was locked, the door knob wouldn't budge.

"Oh, _," he whispered right behind you, his breath on your neck. You slowly turned around, feeling yourself tremble. He was so menacing and intimidating. His gloved hand grabbed your arm hardly, no doubt leaving bruises behind. "It's time I showed you my face, so you would never leave me." He spoke and you trembled in his hold.

He slowly lifted his white mask, your eyes glued to the scenery, wide and frightened. This couldn't be. How can someone have such a face?

A scream was heard from the lead singer's room, alerting many workers. But by the time they got there, the room was empty with no traces of the young Mademoiselle _ anywhere. The only thing left was a note saying

"She will sing only for me. That is her destiny. That is her purpose. The Angel of Music is mine at last."-OG


	2. Chapter 2

The Phantom of the Opera (Angel of Music) Part 2

His grip was incredibly strong. His voice was beyond terrifying. His eyes were shining in the darkness as he dragged you down to the dungeons of the Opera House. You wished you had never ran away. You wished for his usually kind and gentle voice to speak the words of forgiveness. Instead, they came out as a rolling thunder of rage.

"After all I've done for you!" He roared turning around to look at you, but you could see nothing in this pitch darkness, not even his disfigured face, just his yellow threatening eyes. How he could see was beyond your comprehension.

"After all I've _done!_ " He pulled you harshly against his slim but surprisingly strong body. You couldn't help but utter a moan as your small torso collided with his bony form. His grip was tight on your wrist, causing your hand to lose blood circulation.

"Monsieur Erik!" You begged in a teary voice. "You're hurting me!"

The man in front of you did not respond, but his grip instantly loosened as he continued to pull you down the stairs in the pitch-black darkness. It felt like he was pulling you straight to hell... _his_ hell.

It seemed forever before you saw a dim light, eventually recognizing the underground lake. You glanced at Monsieur Erik, only to find him wearing his white mask again with an unreadable expression. He was looking straight ahead as he strode towards the boat, making you run in order to catch up.

He was much gentler this time as he helped you onto the boat, silently rowing as he looked ahead. You wiped the tears away from your face, unable to say anything, feeling like a child who just got into serious trouble, feeling like a trapped bird. You were more than certain that Monsieur Erik would punish you for your betrayal and never let you leave his side again. You sighed as the front of the boat hit the stone wall of the cave, ready to accept your fate.

Erik stepped out of the boat, silently tieing it with a rope. He helped you out, making sure to be as gentle as he could. However, he didn't let your hand go as he continued to hold onto it, looking at the red marks forming on your hurt wrist. His thumb gently brushed the abused area inspecting the damage, making you wince in the process. His brown-yellow eyes finally connected with yours, but this time they were calm and collected. You felt yourself shake as he continued to look at you, his gaze penetrating your very soul, making you feel frightened and uncomfortable. Suddenly, he pulled you into a gentle embrace, wrapping his long slender arms around you, stroking your head.

"Erik is sorry for hurting you, my angel," his voice truly sounded apologetic, making you feel all sorts of mixed emotions. Why was he referring to himself in third person? "Erik was so angry with you. You've hurt him so deeply, Erik wanted you to feel the same way." You listened as your face was pressed against his cloak. "But Erik couldn't go through with it."

You didn't expect him to forgive you so easily. You anticipated endless hours of singing, solitude, even a physical punishment, but you weren't expecting _this_. You looked up at the man against you, seeing mixed emotions behind his eyes. Even though you had a good reason to leave this man, you couldn't help but feel guilty for causing him such emotional turmoil. This damaged man...a fallen angel-a musical genius marked by both God and Satan-wanted nothing more than you by his side. You felt pity for him. After all, all he wanted was your company.

"I'm sorry for leaving you, Monsieur," her voice was muffled against the Phantom's clothes but he heard the girl very clearly. He looked down into her innocent big eyes, seeing sincerity radiating from them. Such innocence, such naivety, he couldn't keep a grudge against her. But she was also very wrong. He _was_ angry when she left him, of course he was, but he was simply _enraged_ when he caught her about to sing for the public.

For three weeks he observed her, watched her training for the lead-singing role of the upcoming opera, hoping that she would change her mind in the last minute and realize her grave mistake. He hoped she would remember her promise and come back to him, but she did no such thing. All those sleepless nights spent simply watching her resting form, pondering on her actions, planning his next move. She was never truly free from him. He was around her constantly, watching her carry on without him. It was a torture.

"Do you remember your promise?" You blinked at the question, trying to remember. You shook your head 'no' and the hand brushing your hair suddenly stopped. Monsieur Erik pulled away from you, grabbing onto your shoulders and staring straight into your eyes.

"The promise you made…" he bit his lip as his fingers dug into your shoulders. _"_ _How could you forget?!"_ He shook your startled form, his long fingers turning into daggers against your skin. You were alarmed with his sudden change of character, frightened for your physical being.

"After all I've done for you! All you had to do was keep that promise! And you **_betrayed_** me! You betrayed your Angel of Music!" Erik couldn't keep the built up emotions any longer. He dragged the girl further into the cave until they reached the organ. He let go of her not too kindly, his fingers angrily pressing onto the keyboards of the instrument, creating loud and angry music which matched his own emotional state.

"Sing for me!" He barked at her, expecting her to finally understand what he wanted.

You felt like covering away from the emotionally unstable man. You could barely stand, let alone sing. Monsieur Erik appeared mad and frantic, getting angrier as nothing came out of your parted lips.

"Sing!" His voice roared, echoing along the walls of the cave, surrounding every corner, making your small body shake. This was truly the voice of a demon.

"Sing for _me_ and **ONLY** _me!"_ With each passing second, it sounded more like an act of desperation and frustration. Feeling pressured, you began to sing the only song that came into your mind, the one you've been practicing for three weeks...the one you were supposed to sing tonight in front of a live audience.

Instantly, the music changed into a softer tune, matching your shaky uncertain voice. You closed your eyes, imagining simpler and better times when Monsieur Erik was a strict but kind teacher, when you actually enjoyed the music lessons. You gave it all you've got, stopping when the music slowly died down. You opened your eyes to heavy breathing coming from the mad man, his hair uncharacteristically rumpled sticking against his moist forehead. His hands were shaky as he tried to sleek the loose strands, failing miserably in the process. His eyes were filled with lust and thrill, mixed with other strange intense emotions you couldn't understand. Unintentionally, you took a step back, feeling trapped in his predatory gaze.

She was his own personal heaven, a light in the endless darkness of his life. It was such a long time since he heard her voice, since he heard her sing _for him_. His chest was filled with excitement, pleasure and pain, lust and adoration as he looked upon her... _his_ Angel of Music. She has finally returned, and he would **never** let her leave his sight..

"Monsieur Erik?" You asked in a soft unsure voice. "Are you alright?"

You watched him slowly advance towards you, emotions flickering in his eyes as he continued to stare at you. You felt the back of your knees hit the couch, which forced you to sit down and wait for Erik to close the distance between you. You felt like a trapped animal, awaiting for the predator to finally make the kill.

You didn't know what you were expecting, but you definitely didn't imagine Monsieur Erik to fall on his knees in front of you. Silence was interrupted by the sound of gentle sobbing, his arms wrapped around your knees as his masked face pressed against the hem of your dress. You've never seen anyone more miserable than the man crying on top of your lap. You couldn't help but feel pity for the poor creature as he clung to you in desperation.

The Phantom gasped as he felt small soft hands on top of his head. He moaned onto the girl's light touch, leaning his head against the gentle fingers. Oh, how he earned for a simple touch! He was so lonely, so miserable without her, any physical contact would sefise.

He tensed when he felt her fingers brush the mask, unsure eyes connecting with her compassionate ones. She was radiating nothing but kindness and sympathy to the point where he could not resist her. With a nod he felt his mask lifted, exposing his horrible face.

Your expression didn't change as you looked upon the disfigured skin, taking in the details of every wrinkle and scar. The face was no longer terrifying. You didn't scream and you didn't cover away. You saw a sad lonely man who wanted nothing but to be happy. He wanted nothing but acceptance and love, and he was willing to do anything to get it. It was finally all clear now.

Erik exhaled when he felt her soft little fingers wipe away his tears. He looked upon her perfect face, unable to believe his eyes. She wasn't scared and she wasn't disgusted anymore. He was now ashamed of himself for forcefully revealing his face before, wishing that this would have been the first time she saw him.

"I understand now, Erik," you spoke cupping his face. "I won't leave you alone again. I will go wherever you may go, and I will sing only for you."

Tears of happiness covered Erik's face as he believed her every word. She was an Angel, _a true Angel,_ sent here to guide him, to make him a better man. He loved her, he loved her so much he would die without her!

Erik laid his head on top of her lap, enjoying the soothing fingers brushing through his hair. They set like this for hours, forgetting the outside world altogether. He did it, he finally got his happy ending. And to make sure of it, he will drop the chandelier so his pure Angel will never be seduced by the surface world again! She was finally his, his and _only_ his. In time, he would put a ring upon her finger. In time, he would make her his wife. Only then he would truly be happy. Only then she would truly be free.

A/N: Happy yandere end? Well, sort of. If Erik doesn't do something about his overly-possessive behavior, it would be another tragic end for him and reader-chan.


End file.
